


The Secrets of Minds

by gratefulsugar



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, HP: EWE, Not Canon Compliant, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2019-04-25 18:20:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14384373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gratefulsugar/pseuds/gratefulsugar
Summary: Anthony Goldstein, Head Boy, has been actively hiding his Legilimency from everyone especially Hermione, hoping to manipulate his way into her heart. Draco Malfoy, perceptive Slytherin Prefect, and proficient Occlumens, notices and challenges Goldstein to a mind war. He vies for the Head Girl's affections too and once a snake coils its prey, it never lets go. Rated M for a reason





	1. All Hallow's Peeve's

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter Universe except for the fandom I've written. In no way am I making a profit from this whatsoever.

 **AN:** This is an **AU** , **Non-canon** story set in 7th year at Hogwarts. Pretend that OOTP, HBP, and DH never happened, and in GOF Cedric Diggory never died, he won the Triwizard Cup and Voldemort's plans never came to fruition, thus the Dark Lord never came back into power and what little body he had slowly withered away into nothing. The second wizarding war has yet to happen so that makes our main characters a little less hostile to each other in their fifth year and up. Voldemort's threat is at the lowest it's ever been since before he was born. Dumbledore is still alive, of course and only he and Harry know about the horcruxes, as well as Hermione and Ron, and they all want to continue to find and destroy them, but it isn't as much of a time issue as before. Lucius Malfoy and almost all of the other Death Eaters have pretty much given up trying to bring the Dark Lord back to power, and despite still raising Draco to hate muggleborns and blood traitors, Draco also knows how to make his own decisions. What his father doesn't know can't hurt him lol this will be a multi-chapter fic. Enjoy, friends.

 **The Secrets of Minds**  
**Chapter One: All Hallow's Peeves**

It had almost been two months into term at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, nearing the All Hallow's Eve Ball, which everyone was just a little too excited about for Draco Malfoy's liking. He'd never been a fan of dressing up in ridiculously terrible or over-zealous costumes and parading around like an imbecile. This was the first time Hogwarts had decided to go through with a Halloween dance in many years, so it was a hot topic for students and teachers alike, not to mention, being as he was a Prefect again this year he'd had to endure many meetings and fulfill certain duties pertaining to the event, which left him highly irritated. Such mundane antics and foolery was not his cup of tea, to say the least, but he'd done what he'd been assigned and carried on with yawns of disinterest and subtle snorts of bemusement and disdain.

Here he was, two days before the ball, bored out of his wits in yet another meeting with the other Prefects and the Head Boy and Girl. He may or may not have been about falling asleep when Tracey Davis nudged him in the ribs, prompting his groggy eyes to open and he lazily took a piece of parchment she was handing him. It was getting rather late, and he still had to do the rounds with Davis afterwards. He'd also been up the better portion of the previous night finishing a foot and a half long Transfiguration essay that was due tomorrow, which would be Friday.

The last thing he needed was the Head Girl glaring bloody daggers at him in annoyance at his obvious inattention. She said nothing, which he was glad for, but he could tell there were hundreds of words piling up on the tip of her tongue. A sly smile curled its way across his lips. Making Hermione Granger frustrated was a success in his book. He seemed to do that a lot, and usually unintentionally, he might add. Although he frequently had impatience for her bitter petulance, there was something incredibly satisfying about being the proverbial thorn in her side.

Hermione's jaw tightened, biting the inside of her cheek and a tiny wrinkle creased in agitation above the front of an eyebrow as the silver-haired Slytherin smugly peered over at her and indolently rolled up the parchment she'd handed out without even looking at it. She'd spent all day, in between classes and during meals making copies of the rules and regulations the students were required to maintain during the ball and he had the gall to just roll it up. For the thousandth time in all her years of schooling at Hogwarts, she reminded herself that she shouldn't be so surprised every time the infamous Draco Malfoy ruffled her feathers or peeved her in the worst ways. Merlin, she wanted to throttle him sometimes. Somehow, he got to her in ways that made it really difficult to pretend not to care.

"So, don't forget to speak firmly, these rules are important, and make sure you answer any questions they may have. Set up a time for the students in your house to gather and read them over, but do it before the end of tomorrow night. We're done here, everyone have a great evening as you make your patrols and close up shop. Meeting dismissed." Anthony Goldstein, the Head Boy finished up his direct counsel for the evening. To be truthful, Hermione had sort of zoned out. Everyone started packing up to leave and the tall, blonde Ravenclaw turned towards her. "Hermione, got a minute?"

She faced him and blinked her eyes a few times, regaining her focus. "Uh, yes, what is it?" Anthony flashed a grin, showing off a set of pearly teeth. He was a mildly charming person, and handsome too, pleasing features, not to mention well-spoken and intelligent. He was Head Boy after all, and despite being a great catch, he didn't necessarily pique Hermione's interest as would be expected from anyone with a brain. Perhaps he didn't really excite her the way she liked, no one did exactly. Hermione liked obscenely witty, clever men who could keep up with her in conversation, and not many could, nor desired to. There was however, something a tad mysterious about Anthony, almost worry worth. Here or there, he would just look at you, with various specific expressions, before he'd reply or ask questions, and it had made things slightly awkward and uncomfortable before.

"I know its short notice, but if no one's asked you already I was hoping you might accompany me to the ball? No pressure or anything, just thought I'd put it out there since we're both heads." Anthony mentally crossed his fingers, a muggle quirk he'd learned, being he was a half-blood, and he'd had a crush on Hermione Granger since last year.

As Draco stood from his table he overheard the discussion ahead, and for a moment his stomach dropped and his knuckles turned ice-white around his bag when the Head Boy asked Granger to the dance. It wasn't that he had the hots for the Gryffindor, although he might admit she'd grown to be rather pretty, fit actually but there was something about Anthony Goldstein that he didn't like. He seemed a bit dubious, like he was always suspiciously making plans in that head of his, and he swore the guy could read minds. He got an inkling of a feeling that the smooth, calculating Ravenclaw was secretly a Legilimens, but Draco was smoother. He was an accomplished Occlumens, a natural, and practiced the art of Legilimency but that needed some improvement. Either way, if he was a Legilimens Draco would be able to idly and inconspicuously stand nearby to gain more insight into what type of person Goldstein really was. Why else did he suddenly get so angry though? He was confused by his own reaction. Why should he care if Granger goes with Goldstein to the stupid ball? It's not like they weren't both Heads and spent a lot of time together anyway. Also, Granger could protect herself.

And despite popular belief, Draco did care for the well-being of other people. He especially hated when women were maltreated, he just rarely boasted about it, but ask any of the Slytherin girls and they'd tell you how daring and chivalrous he was. He saved Pansy Parkinson one time in fifth year when she was being sexually harassed by Gregory Goyle in the common room when no one was around and another time he came to Daphne Greengrass' rescue when Marcus Flint tried to force himself on her in an abandoned, dungeon corridor. He'd pummeled both the pricks faces and told them if they ever tried a stunt like that again he'd personally hex them all the way to Azkaban. Neither of them ever quite made eye contact with him after that.

It was comical that the majority of the school assumed Draco wouldn't fight physically, or couldn't, if it came down to it. He'd had a reputation in the past of coming across as mostly a verbal bully, all talk no brawn, but he'd had the last few years to exercise and train himself and he'd gained much skill as a Seeker and Duelist because of it. He wasn't one to be messed with anymore. Underneath his robes, well-toned, bulky muscles rippled across his body and his agility and endurance was at an all-time high. His height had gradually escalated to a lean, even 6'4. Even Potter found him formidable, and his fellow female classmates finally started to notice.

Hermione tapped her chin in contemplation, trying not to look as surprised as she was by Anthony's proposal. To be truthful, she'd had a hunch he'd harbored some type of attraction for her, but he'd been very hard to read. There would be little signals he'd give off, like brushing his arm against hers or staring intently into her eyes, like he was deciphering every piece of her soul, but he always resumed to his own brand of stoicism. "Ah, well, I told Ginny I'd go with her," she stammered. It wasn't a lie. Ginny had wanted to go with Harry, of course but Harry was still at the "I'm not sure she likes me" stage since the red-head had just gotten out of a long-term relationship with Dean Thomas last week. Ginny had only just realized and confirmed to Hermione that she finally wanted to be with the boy-who-lived, and for him to pursue her, but it was too late because Harry had already asked Fay Dunbar to the ball. "It's my duty as a best friend, you see," Hermione continued. _'I would have enjoyed a chance to dance with you though.'_ She wished.

Draco tucked his wand in his robes, walked as slowly as possible without giving his intentions away and observed how Goldstein gazed into Granger's eyes like he was in a trance-like state. After a moment, Goldstein answered with nonchalance. "I see, and I admire your loyalty. Gotta support your lioness mates," he chuckled. "I would however, love it if I could steal you away for a dance at some point." Hermione couldn't help the slack in her expression as her mouth gaped open and her eyes widened, caught off guard from his uncanny ability to glimpse inside her mind. The corner of Anthony's lips tugged into a smirk. "No need to give me a reply now, Granger. Just come find me when you want to." When he turned away from Hermione he met the scowling stare of Draco as he passed them and he returned the frown. Anthony never did appreciate that sharp snake. The Malfoy heir had a keen eye, one that specialized in attention to detail, and whose hyper-focused cleverness gave Anthony a run for his galleons in the grade department. He prided himself on beating Malfoy on the exams, albeit by a scarce amount of points. The only class he knew Malfoy bettered him in was Potions, certainly.

Despite these things, Anthony didn't worry about Malfoy, but suddenly he realized he should have. When was the last time he'd tried to get a reading from the guy? He did now, putting in his best effort.

Hermione snapped her head over when she saw Anthony's quick change in countenance and her eyebrow arched upwards in curiosity. Why did Malfoy look like he was entirely displeased with the sight before him? Just a few moments ago he was as smug as a bug in a rug. Now he was giving Anthony a lethal glare. Malfoy exited the room and nobody said anything else as the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor used their wands to quietly tidy up the desks and pack their things.

Saturday afternoon rolled around and the All Hallow's Eve festivities began at six o'clock. Students and faculty bustled and chittered about, making last minute preparations and getting dressed. Hermione was in Gryffindor Tower up the set of stairs to her very own, private dorm. Ginevra had just barged in with all of the pieces to her costume and convinced the Head Girl to get herself ready. The youngest Weasley got all decked out in a floor length, Irish green gown with matching enchanted fairy wings in the shape of a four leafed clover. She played up her eyes with sparkly green shadow and mascara and her lips were a bright pink. She finished off the look with a long, straight hair style pushed off to one side. Lady Luck, she called herself.

Hermione got really creative this year. She decided upon an ethereal, Greek-inspired mid-thigh dress that was extremely form-flattering. It subtly cinched around her petite waist, flaring off playfully into a skirt that accentuated her long, toned legs. The neckline hung lowly in splays of white cloth, revealing the tops of her bosoms and the short sleeves fell loosely over her shoulders. The dark brown boots she picked reached the upper calves and she wore a brown hunter's belt that had a long, slender sword and her wand attached at the hip. Resting across her back was a bow quiver half way filled with accurate looking arrows with fletching feathers. She held a legitimate bow by her side. Hermione was never one to wear loads of makeup, but for this event she spread a taupe-y color over her lids, mascara, clear gloss on her lips and she used a technique with a silver shimmer highlighter to give her skin a warm and appealing glow. She also added shining, silver leaf-shaped jewels to the sides of her eyes, a rose-gold leaf bracelet tight around her bicep, and a rose-gold olive leaf crown. Hermione kept her soft, thick, wavy tendrils down which had grown so much the ends hit her lower back. This time she wanted to go as her favorite Greek deity, Artemis the Goddess of hunting, archery, forests and the moon.

The girls deemed themselves ready, and by that time it was nearing six o'clock so they made their way downstairs to the Great Hall. Once at the entrance they amicably linked arms and looked around for Ron, Harry, or anyone really. They wanted to mingle, and many faces were focused in their direction.

Draco stood by the punch table, sipping his goblet full of sparkling, spiked juice as his eyes perused the large crowd. He didn't go too all out with his costume this year, but he thought it was safe to say he looked damn good. He'd dubbed himself the Prince of Darkness, and wore all black. His upper body was displayed irresistibly in a vest that had blood red buttons fastening the deep v-line front. Underneath was a long-sleeved mid-century type blouse that ruffled around the neck and wrists. He had on a long, tourmaline chain with a pagan cross-shaped pendant and you could see the soft patches of the silvery-blonde hairs on his chest. A temporary-tattoo spell that said "Prince of Darkness" in fancy, old calligraphy was etched into his collarbone. His lower body sported a pair of well-fitting leather pants and dark, masculine boots. Draco even went as far as charming his own hair to look like it grew an inch overnight. He'd undone and redone the charm multiple times before he finally decided he liked how the bit of strands in front of his ears framed his chiseled jaw, as well as how he could run his hand through the top and feel it down his neck.

Ron Weasley sashayed up to the punch table with Lavender Brown. He was dressed in a rich brown furry wolf suit, with matching fuzzy wolf-like mask. He had a nice long tail, and Draco might say Weaslebee actually pulled off the costume, but obviously never out-loud. Gryffindor's Giggle Monster wore a short, white and red, Dutch-maiden dress, with a red hooded cape and carried a basket at her arm. Giggle's did what she did best and her effervescent, bubbly laugh hit just that part of Draco's eardrum that made his brain want to explode. Weasel poured them both punch and they were seen clanking their chalices together and chorusing a "Cheer's".

"'Hullo, Weasley, Brown," Draco drawled, attempting to get a good chastise in before they walked away. "What are you two supposed to be exactly, I wonder, a well-behaved pup and his master?" It was no secret that the Weasel was basically whipped by his female counterpart, doing almost whatever she said. They'd been dating since the end of last year but Draco didn't think Weasley would put up with it for much longer, if he knew what was good for him. Didn't he want people to know he had a brain in there, however small it might be?

Ron's face reddened at the embarrassing comment. "Shove off, Malfoy," one of Weasley's most favorite retorts. "What are _you_ supposed to be anyway? You can barely even tell if that's a costume or not, _ferret_."

" _Ohh_ , my apologies, I forgot you don't know how to read. Right here, _dog_ ," he pointed his finger up to the inked mark on his chest. "It says, the 'Prince of Darkness'. I'm the destroyer of worlds, you incompetent beast." His voice was dripping with mirthful venom, always fully amused from humiliating the red-head.

Lavender pulled on Ron's sleeve, wanting to get him away from what could become potentially worse. Ron fumed but chose to be the bigger person and leave the situation instead. "Well, you look hideous." He spewed before they started walking. Draco was almost insulted, _almost_ , but when he saw how Lavender snuck a second glance at him and blush as they breezed away he smirked at the irony of it. It was devastatingly unlikely that he didn't look sexy and mysterious as _hell_ right now.

Just then most of the crowd in the Great Hall hushed, turned their heads and murmured to each other about something he couldn't see from back at the punch bar. He weaved around a few heads before he saw her.

Hermione was breathtaking in a stunning, Goddess-like white dress and charming brown boots with real-looking bow and arrows. She fashioned herself as a heavenly huntress. Her lengthy tendrils were the most beautiful shades of tawny-almond, something around her eyes glimmered, and it was as if she actually glowed, gliding with poise towards the area where he was standing. Inside, a part of him wanted to fade away into the backdrop. Everyone was looking at her and he didn't want to seem like he too had fallen prey to her predatory good looks.

As she went deeper into the sea of students and got closer to him, her amber eyes suddenly locked with his piercing grey ones. He habitually sneered, an expression he had no doubt long ago become an expert of, but Hermione wasn't completely fooled by this particular version of sneer, because of how he visibly gulped, and looking right into her being were his silvery eyes, glinting with desire. She also couldn't help staring, drinking up his lavish, all black appearance, and she definitely couldn't deny the way he looked made the hot coals in her abdomen smolder with a need she'd always repressed around him.

Minutes later, Hermione and Ginevra were complimenting Neville Longbottom and Seamus Finnegan on their costumes. Neville was a well-done Mummy. His cloths were a mixture of eggshell and beige. They were wrapped perfectly up and around him with loose ones strategically draping down here and there, ending with a good amount bandaging over his head. The once awkward boy now had exquisite posture, more confident in his looks and abilities, and people, mostly the females were taking great consideration of this new feat. The girls that knew him had often gabbed about how interesting it was that Neville turned out to be quite the adorable, low-key hunk. He was very tall, and had a lean, well-built body from exercising during the summers at home, and during the warm days throughout the school year because he liked to train outside. It was also very attractive that he had a knack and a passion for Herbology. He was very knowledgeable in that subject and could probably one day be a world-class Healer and save lives.

When it came to Seamus, the young witches long ago agreed that the Irish-man was pleasing to look at. His sandy hair and crystal blue eyes were appealing, and his accent was sexy. He'd already canoodled with and snogged a couple girls, Lavender Brown and Fay Dunbar from Gryffindor, and a Ravenclaw named Nanette Desford, to name a few. Rumor had it he was dating the latter, for she was a fellow native to Ireland too, which made sense. Seamus was guised as the muggle-book character, Waldo, from the children's search and find books, "Where's Waldo?" Hermione knew the reference. On top of his head was a white beanie hat with red trim and red poufy ball. He had on a white and red striped jumper, which made his arm muscles look good, and blue jeans with white sneakers. He also wore a pair of big round black-framed glasses.

"You two look smashing," said Ginny.

"Yes, you do." reiterated Hermione.

"Ya don't look too bad ya-selves, Lassies," Seamus told them. "Ya got me goin' glad eyes fer ya both, 'specially you Ginny, bein' a four-leaf clover and all."

The girls giggled and Ginny patted his bicep, smiling. "Thank you, Seamus. You know I totally dressed as Lady Luck just for you." She said sarcastically and took a sip of her punch.

"Oy, don't tease me like that. I'll believe ya, yeh know."

"What type of huntress are you supposed to be, Hermione?" asked Neville. "That looks like a Greek inspired outfit."

"That's correct, Neville," the book-worm replied. "I'm the Goddess Artemis, to be exact, or Diana, if we're talking Roman, here. She was the Goddess of archery and the moon, among other things."

"Fascinating," he exclaimed. "It really suits you, actually."

"Why, thank you, Neville." Hermione's cheeks were pink.

Harry Potter approached the group with Fay Dunbar and Luna Lovegood. Harry, always the comedian, was decked out as a big puffy Jack O' Lantern with green stem hat for added effect. The face of the pumpkin had a mischievous expression with sharp teeth. Fay took on the role of the meaning behind her name, a fairy. She had on a lilac purple-blue dress and wings, which both glittered and ballet shoes that tied around her ankles. Her chestnut hair was pulled into a curly up-do with light purple ribbons. Luna Lovegood was dressed as a gypsy. She left her oh-so-long blonde locks down, but tied a dark blue bandana over her head and her white dress was layered with a matching dark blue cloth around her hips with jingling bells and a navy, satin corset.

"Hello, everyone," Luna said, exuding her usual dreamy countenance, and everyone greeted each other, chatting about their costumes, twirling around and making jokes.

Fay turned to address Hermione and Neville, seeing as her and Neville were the Gryffindor Prefects. "Didn't this turn out perfectly? Everyone looks great!"

"I couldn't agree more, Fay," Neville proclaimed. "What do you think Head Girl? Did you achieve the perfect All Hallow's Eve Ball?"

"It wasn't just me, Neville," Hermione retorted. "And of course it's perfect, you've all done a very fine job and rather effortlessly actually, I'm swelling with pride." Fay and Neville smiled at her response, it was like she was their big sister or something. A hot, brainy attractive big sister, Neville might woefully think but he knew he wouldn't stand a chance. Neville was under the impression Hermione was way out of his league.

"Thanks, Mum," Fay joked elbowing her in the ribs affectionately and Hermione's lips twitched into a small smirk.

"That's right, Mum of her lion cubs, you knew that." The Head Girl said.

Neville's smile faltered, only slightly and no one noticed, thank the Gods. He was definitely in the friend-zone.

Harry came up to Hermione with his arms outstretched and then put one over her shoulder. "Happy Halloween, Hermione. Is it everything you wanted it to be?" he said in a silly-like theatrical manner. She grinned and couldn't hold back a light giggle.

"Well, Harry I don't know that yet," she said in an equally silly, matter-of-fact tone and he laughed, straightening his spectacles. "Perfect or not," she continued normally, "I'd still need to fill up my chalice with more of that punch, which is spiked, by the way, and I'd like you to tell me if you have any ideas on who did it."

"Not in the slightest," he said truthfully. "But I may be able to find out."

"Excellent, now I'm going to go get some more. Is your chalice full, Harry?" He peered down in his cup and then back up at Hermione with a grin.

"Yes, it is."

"Okay, be back shortly," she said and headed to the punch bar. After filling her goblet and taking a sip of it she felt eyes penetrating her and she looked around for the culprit. There he was, leaning against the wall in the dark, a fair distance away, and acting like he wasn't just staring her down. Hermione briefly thought of completely ignoring him but thought again, and decided she wanted to see where some playful banter would take her.

When it was clear she was walking over towards him, Draco started to inwardly panic. _'What in Slytherin's name is she coming over here for?'_ His pulse quickened, thudding loudly in his ears, but he kept a cool exterior. _'It's fine, it's only Granger. You know, the boorish, bossy, big-haired, ugly, prude little girl from first year. Yes, that's right, Draco. Keep telling yourself that.'_

"Malfoy," she spoke with impudence.

"Granger," he greeted gruffly, nodding his head. Hermione just stared up at him, getting a good look at his physique before she zeroed in on his charmed tattoo and read it.

"Ah, the _Prince of Darkness_ , you say? How fitting," she said, lacking the usual amount of enthusiasm in her sass. He looked damn good, like a snack, and that just wasn't fair. She wanted to play with the bit of white-blonde hair on his sleek chest and lick a line from his neck to his jaw and… _'Hold it right there, Hermione.'_

Draco snorted from her attempt at an insult. "That's correct, _Goddess_ ," he said the words teasingly which made her unconsciously bite her lip. "It's the one and only Big Bad. Does it scare you?"

Hermione cackled mirthfully. "Not in the slightest, did you want it to? Oh, that's too bad. I'm a deity, from the Heaven's, purest of light and sent to this realm to defeat the monsters of darkness, such as yourself, Malfoy." She smirked, speaking with a protective, hero-like voice. She took a big gulp of her chalice. "Was it you who spiked the punch? Come now, fess up."

He liked that she was able to play around with him, but he got anxious from feeling how cordial they were being. "Well, look at you, Granger," he said slowly, drawling out the words. "You blasted in from another planet on your self-righteous high-horse, not an uncommon thing to witness." His words were waspish, and he saw Hermione furrow her brows and frown, but he knew she could take it. Her freckled face and neck grew warm with sudden frustration. Draco noticed and enjoyed how alluring her tanned skin looked. He took a step, languidly leaning in and muttered close enough she could breathe in the musky wood and spice that was his scent, "And if I catch you alone, I have reason to know it would actually be _me_ who would defeat _you_."

Hermione moved her body away from him feeling vulnerable but kept her chin up in protest and crossed her arms. What in Godric's name did he mean by that? "That's _hilarious_ , Malfoy. Try that, and I'll hex you into next year. Corner me and I'll smack you in the face like that one time, remember that?" she said, raising an eyebrow and showcasing her straight rows of ivory white teeth.

She was pretending to be ignorant to how his towering frame was agile, and strong, ignorant of the muscles that grew significantly since third year. She knew that he could most definitely subdue her in a physical fight, right? He stared at her, expressionless, trying his damn hardest not to return the smile. Draco wanted to provoke more of a reaction from her.

"No, I don't remember that," he faked with a hint of sarcasm. "You think you actually got a hit on me? Doubt that, missy. You must have dreamt it up in that over-imaginative head of yours." He knew how to press the right buttons, all right.

"Oh please, you _know_ you remember it. You can't fool me," she seethed, crinkling her cute little nose. Hermione pouted, wanting to flee her mission, but then her quick wit kicked in. "What then, did the memory of it haunt you so terribly that you got night terrors and had to Obliviate yourself?" Draco's eyes glowered at her, knowing he'd been bested in his joke.

"Good show, Granger, but you shouldn't ignore my warning," he said, leaning in again so if anyone passed by them only she would hear. "Because you're surrounded by your friends and classmates and right now, in your little costume, you feel strong and powerful," his lips were right next to her ear, and he brought some strands of her curls up to his nose and shamelessly inhaled her soft, feminine scent. She smelled sweet, like black cherries and vanilla cake. "But if you face me in the dark, with no one there to protect you, then we'll find out for certain just how well you can manage." Hermione's knees almost gave out as she trembled with fear-mingled desire. He let go of her and stepped away, pretending as if nothing happened.

Gods, she _loathed_ him. Was he actually saying he'd attempt to rough her up in seclusion? She shut her eyes. "You are always such a damned snake, dastardly, disgustingly devilish and _vile_." This time he laughed.

"Thank you, _sweeting_ , that's exactly what I was going for."

She snorted in disdain but it was only to timidly hide the disbelief... sweeting? What was Malfoy playing at? What was he doing, getting so uncomfortably close to her, sniffing her curls, calling her " _sweeting"_ , which was an affectionate word for the sweet nectar of a fruit, and how did he know how to make her feel this way? At first it sounded like he was threatening her with violence, but was it possible that Draco was openly signaling her with gestures and innuendoes that revealed a secret sexual encounter Hermione couldn't refuse? As much as that poked at the front of her curiosity, she had to end this and abandon ship. "Well, if you've had your fun then, I'm quite finished with this conversation. Enjoy the rest of your evening, snake. You helped bring it together, after all." The Head Girl went for being quick and to the point, as well as professional. Then, wide-eyed like a baby fawn caught in headlights, she bashfully whisked away into the area of the Great Hall that was better lit.

It was a few hours later, and Hermione lived up to the favor she was asked of by Anthony Goldstein, and they were moving together in tandem on the dance-floor. Hermione had to admit, the ball she helped plan was a success and she was having tons of fun. It seemed like everyone else was too. From her peripherals she saw Harry to the left, drunkenly twirling Ginny and they looked very happy. Hermione briefly wondered where Fay must have gone and saw at a distance she was cutely prancing to and fro with Neville. She had to strain to see, there were so many people, and the big dining hall was layered in a dense smoke of thick fog. It had darkened immensely, only illuminated by a plethora of floating, black and gold candles. The night sky, enchanted to be moonless, twinkled only with far away stars and planets.

Anthony grabbed Hermione's hip and moved her around so her back was against his stomach. The fair-haired Ravenclaw wore a Victorian-era suit with a light blue and marigold yellow patterned waist-coat, light grey slacks and matching blazer with coattails. Pulling the whole ensemble together were the oval, brown-rimmed glasses that brought out the blue in his hazel irises. Hermione thought him to be quite dashing, but occasionally something tugged her focus to the sexy look of a certain Slytherin, who was in the crowd a ways back. She caught him throwing eyes at her as he danced with Slytherin's Favorite Bint, and felt the innate, petty need to make him jealous.

Draco dipped Pansy, who was a seductive bunny rabbit, which was a tad cliché', if you asked him. She did look pretty and all, clad in white tights, a pale pink body suit, long ears and a poufy fluff of a tail, but he just couldn't take his eyes off of Hermione. He observed the way Goldstein's sneaky hands wriggled down Granger's lithe body and linger, just there, at the end of her skirt, hiking it up and exposing more of her golden, honey-kissed thighs. In a twisted sense he was grateful for the view, but it made anger gut-roast his insides in ways that he never knew existed. It was he, Draco who should be in his place.

Anthony felt the smooth skin of Hermione's legs as her bum moved back and forth, dangerously swaying into his nether regions, and he had to abstain from his natural need to want to touch more of her. He focused in on the Head Girl's thoughts with Legilimency, a gift he'd had since before he'd gotten his first Hogwarts letter. He grasped that she wasn't totally opposed to his advances, so he slid his hands stealthily back toward her hips and his fingers flirted lowly on her pelvis as he swiveled behind her to the beat.

He chanced a glance at Draco Malfoy. A part of him wanted to outwardly grin when he saw Parkinson angrily stalk away from her ex-lover. Publically, their relationship was over, anyway. _'I unintentionally overheard from the rumor mill that those two were still fucking but who knows now because obviously he's staring at my Goddess,'_ he thought begrudgingly, realizing that Slytherin's Blonde Prince had been openly eye-ogling Hermione and Pansy noticed. It brought the Head Boy back to a couple nights ago when he finished up the Prefects meeting and he'd gotten the courage to ask Granger out. Shame, she had to come with a girlfriend.

Distinctly sticking out to him though, was the odd moment when he was blind-sided by Malfoy's daunting eyes, challenging him with his intimidating, inky-black soul as he slowly swaggered out of the classroom. That was what made Anthony realize he never cared enough to delve into Draco's mind very often, which was proving to be a grave mistake.

He'd only done that once or twice before and it was years ago, deciding afterwards that other people were far more fascinating. That remained consistent until after that meeting when Malfoy's emotionless scowl left absolutely nothing to be revealed except for an immensely protected mind under a strict lock and key. Following that incident, a thought reacquainted itself in Anthony that Malfoy had been bred to be a Death Eater. It was staring him in the face this whole time, and if it weren't for his disinterest in the slimy git at a younger age then he might have been able to learn some secrets, and deep secrets they must have been indeed.

It was assumed that being raised by a Death Eater to eventually bring back the late Voldemort would have required being taught special defense skills such as Occlumency, which Anthony was positive, was the reason Draco could block out his brain waves. He had learned to literally build a wall around himself, and a strong wall it was, better than his own. _'Well, fuck.'_ Anthony mentally cursed. Now Malfoy was giving him that same look again. A thick, impenetrable aura surrounded him that left the Ravenclaw mystified with the hallow nothingness that was Draco Malfoy's mind. Anthony wasn't ready to find out what would happen if he didn't stop standing so close to and groping Gryffindor's Princess. The Slytherin looked venomous, ready to murder him so he needed to back out of the picture for the time being and quickly think up a scheme.

Thankful to all parties involved, the song ended and a slow, edgy romantic tune thrummed through the Great Hall. It could be surmised that the ball would be ending shortly, and the room became even darker, almost pitch-black. Only a dozen or two candles remained lit, dimming the area and sending firelight warm radiance over their faces. Anthony took Hermione's hand and pecked it. "It was a great pleasure dancing with you, Goddess, but regrettably I must take my leave." Hermione gave a small smile and the Head Boy left her in the middle of the dance floor.

In a wondrously magical way, the candlelight hit at just the right placement and the Slytherin Prefect and Gryffindor Head Girl met eyes. Without any coherent contemplation they went towards each other through an ocean of mist and people, like a magnets unwavering pull. "Malfoy," she greeted, nervous and unable to diligently hide the fact she was excited. His eyes roamed over her body as he stopped mere inches away. He wasn't completely sure what was coming over him tonight with this girl. It was a number of things, if he were being truthful... the music and mood lighting in the Great Hall, the way her hair and eyes looked tonight, how her dress cinched at the waist and accentuated her wide and womanly hips, the confident, graceful way in which she'd learn to carry herself recently... the insane jealousy he felt tonight at Goldstein and how his inner alpha animal was crying out to take what he really wanted...

"Well, well, looks like the huntress has fallen into my trap, like a butterfly in a spider's web." He whispered, but before she could say anything he curled a long lock of her hair around his finger and leaned down to her ear. "Dance with me, yeah?" His nose nuzzled into her hair. "Mmm... it's now or never." he purred.

Gooseflesh shivered its way over her when she felt the hum of his warm breath puffing against the shell of her ear and neck. With his body so close to hers the twinge of desire and want emblazoned her. Hermione lifted her hand and grazed the tips of her digits over the bare skin on his chest which was hot and slightly sticky from perspiration. It reminded her of other ways such a delectable countenance could be obtained. Draco pulled her in closer and held her to him, gripping her waist as they began to sway with the music. It was so dark in there, and he honestly didn't care anymore if anyone could see them. All he focused on was how every part of her essence flooded and saturated his senses.

Hermione braced herself against him. In the last six or so years she had never once thought she'd ever be in this proximity with the black-hearted Slytherin. Touching him, and to be in this embrace, was unthinkable. _'Is this really happening?_ ' She wasn't sure if she could even look up at him. Gods, he was so _tall_. When did he get so tall?

One of his forearms trailed over her and took her palm in his. They both glanced over at their hands, at what they made. Together, his long pale fingers spread hers out and it revealed how massive they were compared to her small stature. It was the most intimate moment they'd ever shared, and the revelation gave them both a flutter of nerves in their bellies.

The Slytherin snake couldn't help but gaze down at the tantalizingly generous view of her breasts. How buttery soft they looked. He imagined what they'd feel like in his hands. Hermione looked up at him with half-lidded, doe eyes and her mouth… she looked good enough to kiss. Salazar be damned, if he didn't want to. His fingers laced with hers on their own accord. They were completely pressed together, his lips nearer and nearer to the beginning of the end, or perhaps the end of the beginning?

The slow song began to fade out and Draco had to refrain from his previous instinct. Hermione's whole body shuddered as his face turned down to her, her cheeks flushing more if possible. Then he delicately skimmed his pillowy smooth lips across the corner of her mouth, and her world flipped inside out. She felt as if she'd been thrown into a Stunning Spell. Malfoy fled the steamy scene they'd shared in secret and when the room got brighter he was nowhere in sight, leaving her wonder if it truly happened at all.

Anthony Goldstein was livid, tearing off his now, broken glasses. It was not often he felt stark-raving mad, but on the rare cases he did he'd advise others not to get in his way. As it were, he was on his way up to Ravenclaw Tower, done with the night, when he suddenly tripped over something invisible and fell flat on his face, skidding forward. The long, ancient rug-covered floor left wide, vertical burns on his cheek and forehead. He'd glared furiously down at what had caused him to eat the rug, only to see nothing there at first. Then, of course, the castle's poltergeist, Peeve's, became visible and evilly chortled with murky laughter that reverberated throughout the walls and lurked around every facet of the school, leaving you with paranoia in the night.

The menacing disturbance that was Peeve's snickered away down towards the steps to the lower floor, and Anthony was thankful. _'That lame devil and his obnoxious, unfunny pranks.'_ But what pissed him off the most, was that he was worried Draco Malfoy would find out that he could read and bend minds, his most hidden secret, if the elitist prat didn't know already. He needed to let off some steam, so he went up to his private quarters to take a hot, relaxing shower. What a terrible evening. Yes, the ball went without a hitch, but he'd had to postpone his pursuit of Hermione Granger. The Slimy Snake of Hogwarts seemed to have a problem with it. Anthony wasn't sure if he should go forth with his plans to try dating the Head Girl, or quietly surrender.

He would not be a coward. There had to be a way to win Hermione's affections, couldn't there? He'd read her mind before and knew she found him to be fetching and smart, but she'd also thought him not exactly her type. Anthony could understand that, but he was hoping he would be able to sway her. Malfoy must have figured out what he was up to, didn't like it, and now the git had it out for him, but why? He never got the impression from Granger that she remotely cared for Malfoy, in fact, it seemed like she despised him, so why on earth did the Slytherin feel a sense of responsibility for her? Did he want to come to her rescue because she was the Head Girl? That would be like a duty to a Queen in the literal sense, and that didn't strike Anthony as very, "Malfoy-like".

This silly thought amused him greatly as he soaped up his aching body inside the shower. Then, another worry wedged itself into his brain. What if the idiot had actually gotten feelings for her? What if Malfoy _loved_ her? Inside the Ravenclaw, a meek, pessimistic voice said that if he did then it would be quite the obstacle to overcome. That dragon was a sneaky snake in the grass, he might not give up a fight, and the Head Boy knew it wouldn't be easy. He had to stay alert, and be more wary of his own actions. The scent of _war_ was crisp in the air.

 **AN:** There is the first chapter. I got great enjoyment from writing it so if you liked it please favorite and leave a review. Thank you loves, more to come soon :)


	2. Carpe Noctem/Seize the Night

**  
AN:** Once again, I want to reiterate that this story is blatantly **Non-Canon**. Also, this was a very experimental piece of writing for me. First of all, there is a **small trigger warning** : there's mention of cannabis usage but before you get yourself in a twist just remember to give it a chance before you judge. I myself live a sober life, not that it's anyone's business, either, although I used to smoke marijuana, so I can sort of tell where some of the characters are coming from and wrote as accurately as I was able. Most importantly, I really want you all to know that it was never my initial plan to take this chapter the direction it went, but I can honestly say that I'm pretty satisfied with how it turned out and I hope you all like it as well. I've molded a few characters into some personality traits that might seem un-like them but it's all because in this **AU** the students have continued their schooling at Hogwarts _without_ the threat of Voldemort having ever risen to power and what I thought they might feel and act like because of it. Just give it a go. If it's terrible than at least I had fun writing sixteen pages of shite, lol

**The Secrets of Minds  
Chapter Two: Carpe Noctem/Seize the Night**

The Prince of Darkness sauntered through the Entrance Hall and flew down the steps to the dungeons. Upon reaching the stone landing he saw Blaise Zabini linking elbows with Tracey Davis heading towards him from the opposite direction. Blaise was dressed like a person living during the Italian Renaissance, wearing a brown leather vest with light brown, long-sleeved tunic tucked into dark umber-colored trousers with Italian leather boots. He also had on a big, deep green velvet hat with feather and a sword as a prop. Tracey's honey-blonde locks were wrapped elegantly into a braid with a flower crown, and it looked pretty with the late middle-ages green and beige gown she had on. They went to the ball together, so she matched Blaise well.

"Draco, there you are," Tracey addressed him somewhat worriedly as he caught their attention. "You won't believe it. Most of the Slytherins and a bunch of _randoms_ from the other houses are in the common room completely obliterated."

"It's just a little after-party action," Blaise added. "Everyone's safe, we can assure you." The deep bronze skinned Slytherin would have been the Prefect for the snakes if Draco had gotten Head Boy, but Blaise didn't hold it against him like people thought.

"Lovely, just lovely" Draco said, his gruff voice dripping with sarcasm. "Just what I wanted to deal with right now," he pinched the bridge of his nose and ran his hand over his head, disheveling the sweaty mess that was his hair even more so than it already was. "How many are we talking about here?"

"Eh, maybe fifteen or twenty..?"

"He _lies_ ," Tracey scolded. "It's got to at least be forty students!"

Draco outwardly groaned. "You have _got_ to be kidding me,"

"Now, that's over exaggerating, Davis," Blaise shot coolly. "If it _is_ more than what I said, then there are no more than thirty."

"No better than under exaggerating," she replied.

"Whether or not there are fifteen or _fifty_ students," Draco interjected as he rubbed at his eyes. He was a little more inebriated than he initially thought. "I'd like to know who spiked the juice bar."

"Really though, Draco, take one guess," Tracey said with her typical nonchalance. "Which one of our dim-witted friends would do something like that?"

' _Theo, I'm going to mangle_ _you.'_

At one time Theodore Nott, weedy, gangly git that he is, was also quite the loner. He'd been known to seem tense and unconfident, but it was easy to see he was a clever person. It wasn't until fifth year when he really started opening up, and becoming atrociously extroverted. Clearly making up for lost time the re-born Theo started cracking jokes around everyone, and funnily enough he'd been comical, but that could still get old sometimes. It was a bit frustrating that on more than a couple occasions Nott threw parties in the common room, most of the time without asking first. It was true, they hadn't been caught yet exactly, but Professor Snape knew what was going on. He'd reprimanded them quite a few times about the underage drinking. Sure, it was legal for seventeen year olds to drink, but many of the younger crew ended up in the throes of Theo's madness. Not to mention, only some of them had only recently became of-age, and if it had been any other house, Snape probably would have done something about it, but because it was his Slytherins he often turned the other cheek.

However, Draco knew his godfather well enough to know his patience wouldn't last forever and one of these days they were going to do something really, really stupid and Draco was going to get the brunt of it. "And where exactly, do you think the two of you are going?" the Prefect questioned.

"We'll be back straight away," answered Blaise. "A bunch of sixth years rolled like, ten spliffs of some really good chonga and went to the Astronomy Tower to find out if they could see any more of the Orionids." Draco reflected on Astronomy class a week and a half before then. Professor Sinistra taught them about the Orionid meteor showers, which are essentially just dust from part of 'Halley's Comet' that are visible shooting through the night skies for about five weeks during October and November. "We were just going to go check up on them and – "

"Argh, for the love of Slytherin, don't take forever, do you hear me?" Draco spat. He wanted his friends to have fun but it was not such a good idea, smoking an illegal substance when it was already minutes after curfew, and he really couldn't believe the staff had done nothing about the students scattered throughout the corridors already. _'Filch must be going out of his mind,'_ he mused.

"We won't, Malfoy, I promise," Tracey smiled. "Oh, by the way, the revised password is 'Fortes fortuna adiuvat'," she told him before they walked away.

"Fortune favors the bold," Blaise recapitulated, grinning. As they turned to leave they looked like a couple of dandy first years, and Draco found himself to be alarmingly jealous. He wasn't one to just risk it all for a drunken night, getting his brains cooked. Yes, he'd done it once or twice in the past and although he found it hard to completely relax his mind during the after effects, it still was a nice feeling occasionally.

Then Draco thought about the new password. _'Fortune favors the bold..? Is that it? I've been bold. Do I have to be bolder, then?'_

The bewildered Prefect reached the stone wall and said the password, letting the words echo through him. He entered the common room and immediately targeted in on Millicent Bulstrode, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle. They were forcing down shots of some putrid looking alcohol with a few Slytherin fifth years.

"Crabbe, Goyle," he commanded as he wove through students, and when he got to them he wagged his finger in annoyance. "You all would do well to realize you now have complete responsibility of these kid's lives." He pointed to the fifth years, two boys and a girl. "If you fuck up, I will not save you. I will have nothing to do with any of it." They all gulped and nodded in response.

"Don't worry Malfoy, they'll be fine," Goyle assured him.

"Yeah, we're cutting them off after this shot anyway," conceded Crabbe.

Draco wanted to say more but he heard high-pitched giggling and turned to his right to see Theo in a fit of chuckles at something a sixth year said on the spacious, black leather couch. It was a girl, Jennifer Wheatley, known vixen, but as Draco approached Theo wasn't just sitting next to her anymore, he was full on snogging her now. Draco remembered how close his mouth had been to suckling on Hermione's pouty bottom lip when he held her near to him in the darkened, fogged-out dance floor.

The brunette Ravenclaw dressed as a grey mouse saw Malfoy stalking towards the couch and she patted Theo on the chest to get his attention. "Theodore, you blithering idiot!" he hissed at them, pulling off Nott's pirate's hat and smacking him over his head. Nott was costumed as a buccaneer, eye-patch and all.

"Oy, that hurt!" cried Theo.

"You've formulated _another_ party? You didn't even check with me first!"

"I know, I know, but it all happened so fast, it was a bit spontaneous, mind you."

"Don't give me that, you know very well that you somehow initiated a way to get all these people here." he admonished.

"Relaaax, Drake," he said as he snatched his hat back. "For once in your life can you just let loose and have some real fun?"

The question stunned the Slytherin Prince, and for a brief moment there was a flash of regret in his grey eyes as he remembered what he'd ruminated on for two years: letting go, to let go of the past, surrendering to and releasing all of the mistakes he'd made in his youth, all the crimes he'd committed or been privy to, and forgive himself to move on. Not only that but he'd been working so hard. He was third in his class, Prefect, Seeker on the Quidditch team among many more activities and recreation, so he didn't have time to unwind. He was beginning to think that perhaps he should make time.

"Fine," he seethed. "Fine, I'll let loose for a bit." Jennifer and Theodore looked at him expectantly, as if not sure that he was finished talking. Draco opened his eyes and glared at Theo, causing the chestnut-haired Slytherin to grin widely, and then he grabbed an open bottle from the floor and levitated over a new goblet. As he was pouring a fair amount of liquid into the cup Draco curiously asked, "What kind of liquor is _that_ , Theo?"

"It's Black Cherry Bourbon called Red Stag, from America. It's delicious, my friend, here, drink up," Nott said, handing Draco the goblet and filling up his own. "Jenny, would you like some more, love?" he asked the Ravenclaw beside him.

"Yes, please," the blonde said as she looked the Prince of Darkness up and down with cow-eyes and started biting her lip. Draco of course noticed, but it didn't matter, he'd had Jenny Wheatley already. It happened last year. He was her first pick when she came around the Slytherins, and he thought she was beautiful. One night when he'd just gotten into the bathtub in the Prefects Bathroom there was a knock, so he went to see who it was. He put on a towel, dripping wet and a tad angry that he'd been forced to leave the water. Upon opening the door he was met with the slinky curves of Jenny in a short bath-robe. Surely one could guess what transpired after that. Since then, he'd lost interest in her when she went from one guy to the next. A bit of a tart, really.

"Nice to see you, Jenny," Draco said, strictly cordial. "Is Theo being a good little snake and treating you with dignity?" He took a large gulp from his cup, swallowing and letting out a refreshed breath.

Jenny blushed. "Um well, no, actually, no not really." Draco's eyebrows rose. "But it's alright, because I'm having the grandest of times." She said smiling and a happy Theo handed her the refilled goblet, clinking their glasses before dipping his head to kiss her.

Slytherin's Prince said nothing, he may have appeared bored as he peered down in his cup but he'd been taken away by how amazing the bourbon tasted. _'Black cherry, was it?'_ He was back on the dance floor, inhaling Granger's perfume, and how it mingled scrumptiously with the _sweat_ that was beaded all over her body. Her scents... that smell that was hers and hers alone, her pheromones, it was enough to drive him loony.

About forty-five minutes later Draco had fully let loose. He had already played a game of Exploding Snap with a large boy in fourth year, Landen Riggs. The brute had beaten him, but then Draco had something else in mind. A group of Hufflepuffs had set up a muggle dartboard on one of the walls so he went over and challenged them all to a game.

While playing he observed how Pansy Parkinson, outfitted in her skimpy bunny rabbit costume, sat in the lap of another seventh year talking elatedly with him in an arm-chair. Her legs straddled him, Stephen Cornfoot, a pure-blooded Ravenclaw who was dressed in a goofy teddy bear suit with his mask off. His hands were atop her pert bum grasping around the fluffy tail while she ran her fingers along his neck. They seemed to not get enough of one another, biting and kissing each other playfully, and she didn't care that her white stockings had tears running up the back of her thigh. They looked as if they were in love.

Draco pondered how long that had been going on for; whether or not she had suddenly gained interest in Cornfoot that night or if they'd long had such a connection. Or was she simply still jealous from when she caught him staring at Granger like a total creep and pettily wanted to get back at him?

Here was the thing with Pansy; they'd exclusively dated for a time from the fourth to fifth year. The raven-haired beauty had harbored affections for Draco since she met him and he'd finally given her a chance. It had been decent, even pleasant for a time until they started bickering more and more about miniscule issues. It was brought to light that essentially they did not get on very well, not in a relationship anyway, so they split up. Their puzzle pieces didn't fit, so to speak. They were good as just mates, or comrades. Every once in a blue moon they'd had a quick romp but it had basically felt _meaningless_ ; most, if not all of his 'concubines' had been meaningless affairs. Draco had yet to find a real connection with anybody.

He ignored Pansy and her supposed new lover after that.

After a few well-played rounds of darts a wave of anxiety washed over Draco because Blaise and Tracey were not back yet and it had been almost an hour. Finishing his fourth goblet he found his dark green robe and left the antics in the common room. He was on a mission: get everyone in the Astronomy Tower down from there and back to their respective houses without a hitch.

He may have been known as an "Ice King", but contrary to his cold demeanor and invidious outward attitude Draco had a well-hidden, subtle warmness in him that most didn't right away notice, if they cared, but that was how he'd wanted it. It had all been the product of his design, with a smidge help from his father, of course. When he was a young wizard he admired Lucius and couldn't wait to be just like him. Growing up with his father's stately pride and incessant, optimistic raving about the Dark Lord, Draco thought by now he'd be serving as a Death Eater living life lavishly without all the ignorant, side-ways muggles walking the earth. He'd have felt like true royalty then… but that had all slowly faded into distant, forgotten memories.

Draco made it to the top of the stairs, really starting to feel the bourbon's effects. He heard buzzing in his ears and the muffled sound of several people giggling with one specific laugh amidst them; it was a familiar sound he recognized but had not heard very often. It was the type of laugh that was raw, and candid, signifying a sincere moment of bliss and amusement, and it was the _Head Girl_.

There she was, the Goddess, with her legs crisscrossed, in a circle with Ginny Weasley, Blaise, Tracey and three more sixth years, sitting on the bare ground, no less. At Draco's sudden presence they all stopped laughing and snapped their heads over to see who was there. Draco put his hands up, gesturing that he was alone and they visibly calmed down, shoulders slacking, laughing and exhaling the breaths that were held in. The Prince of Darkness was somewhat perturbed that he hadn't stirred in them a more frightened reaction and had this been years ago he would've been agitated that a bunch of Slytherins and Gryffindors were jovially in each other's presence. All the same, he felt like he'd missed out.

Draco's eyes turned to silver slits as he approached Blaise and Tracey. "What in the _hell_ do you two think you're doing?" he was yelling through his whisper. "It's been an hour! You said you'd be back _straight_ away!"

They both gazed up at him with shocked, mildly terrified expressions. "S-sorry, mate," Blaise stammered as the Slytherin Prefect stood behind them. "We meant to leave earlier, but I guess we just sort of…" he trailed off, eyes glossing over.

"We got a bit distracted, you see," Tracey interceded airily and they guffawed, bending their heads forward in laughter.

"Evidently," said Draco through gritted teeth. Being around people who smoked when you haven't could prove to be irritating and right then it felt like he hadn't heard the punch line to a hilarious joke. Despite how nervous he was to see her after their most recent interaction he turned his head to glower at Hermione who was sitting next to Blaise and she stared up at him defiantly, also giving no inclination that anything out of the ordinary had happened. "What say you, Head Girl, about this chummy lot getting toasted on illegal substances, _right here_ , on Hogwarts property?" He was raising his voice slightly and everyone gasped and snickered.

"Quiet yourself, Malfoy," she said smirking. "Despite our Muffliato charm, we still shouldn't be loud. They're almost done and we were actually just about to leave."

"Why are you even up here in the first place?" he pressed, wondering if she had been participating.

"Oh," Ginny chimed looking up at him. "That would be my fault, technically."

Winifred Robbins, sixth year Slytherin passed a burning spliff to Tracey Davis, who inhaled the contraband and coughed. The Prince of Darkness rolled his eyes. "So what, Weaselette, you just wanted to sneak up here with your little friends for a spliff or two?" she glared at him. "Now the Head Girl's dragged into it. Don't you lot realize we're putting all of our educations at risk?" Hermione felt a twang of adoration run up her spine.

"Malfoy, it's not entirely her fault," said Hermione, slurring her speech just a little. The Gryffindor had apparently gulped down more spiked punch than he would have bargained. "She was invited by the others and she wasn't that sloshed so I said she could go. I came with to chaperone and although I do not condone this type of illegal activity I will say, however, that you can't always change someone's mind, especially not Ginevra's," she paused and Ginny smiled at her appreciatively. " _I_ didn't smoke, if you were wondering, so I suppose for me, it's one of those once in a life time opportunities to be truly carefree. I haven't had much excitement the past few years, really," she prodded her chin. "So _strange_ , I feel as if the last three years flew by without any kind of marvelous adventures."

Draco was thankful Hermione was acting rather normal for having been drinking all night, but what made him anxious, besides her beautiful chocolate eyes, was that she, like him had not really partook in many intrepid, undaunted tasks in a great long while, but the girl had the soul of a lioness and if Granger thought the fun had bypassed her she would probably go do something serendipitous and brave.

Why couldn't he be more like that? He'd been ruthless in the beginning, and didn't give a damn how he'd take turns hurting and humiliating Scarhead, Weasel or the _Mudblood_ … but then things got very different for him before and during fifth year.

That was when the Dark Lord, as his father would call him Death Eater that he was, had apparently begun his transition into having his own real body, only to have missed the mark. He shriveled away, dying _again_ after the many failed attempts at bringing him back over the years. Draco remembered a particular evening at the Manor during the Summer Holiday after the Triwizard Tournament.

_Draco couldn't put his finger on why he did it. He told himself it was because he'd thought no one was actually inside. He rationalized that the dark mahogany door was partially open with an intriguing amount of candlelight and the deep, earthy essence of frankincense and myrrh, so he proceeded into the study, overcome with enchantment of the spicy aromas only to walk in on Lucius staring out the window at a full moon. It seemed like a private moment of solitary; his over-analysis addled eyes looked far off into the depths of the twilight and anxiousness was etched in his features. His long straight strands of white-blonde hair were uncharacteristically tousled up, making his father look like a nervous wreck. It wasn't very often he'd seen him this way and when he did it never meant something good. Draco remembered wanting to run away because maybe he hadn't seen him come in, but then the older Malfoy snapped his head over and discovered the intruder._

" _Draco," he croaked, clearing his throat. The man seemed to be in somewhat disbelief that there was actually another person in the room with him._

" _Father," he greeted, unsure exactly what to say. "I-I apologize, I can leave –"_

" _No, wait," Lucius said, and sat into the chair at his desk motioning for Draco to have a seat across from him. "Come here, my son,"_

" _Yes, father." Draco sat in the huge, black arm-chair and waited for him to speak. After a moment, Lucius looked at him with stone-grey eyes that shone with old memories and twinkled with unshed tears. "All that we've looked forward to and worked towards has been for_ _nothing_ _, the exact opposite of what we wanted," he sniffed._

When Lucius spoke as if helping the Dark Lord rise to power again was what Draco truly wanted... well, he _did_ want that for as long as he could remember. Yes, he did, but he wanted it for his father, not for Voldemort. The way Lucius thought so highly of him, and justified all the pretentious, hateful wrong-doings and small-mindedness with one, vain fact: those who were born as purebloods are better, and everyone else was dirty and should be exterminated, making room for pristine, well-bred magical families.

They were supposed to take over the whole, damn world.

But it was all falsehoods; all the recounted war-stories and dry arguments brokenly echoing over and over like a glitch in the universe that Voldemort and his minion Eaters were endlessly, inherently looped in.

" _The Dark Lord is gone again," he quietly whispered, his voice cracking. "Initially, I was unaware of the most recent ploy to regenerate him but I started getting signs and signals that left me wondering if he was coming back. Since then I've prepared myself for his return. Sadly, I only now got word that the remaining Death Eaters have decided to drawl back and formulate a better plan, and it could take years, Draco,"_

 _The younger Malfoy was listening intently but hadn't completely looked him in the eyes. At his father's pause Draco met his stare and was suddenly taken aback by Lucius' outward appearance, like he was seeing him for the first time. More wrinkles adorned his now pasty white face, the years of his age recently catching up to him. Also, Draco had just realized there were dried tear streaks down his cheeks and shame and regret were glimmering in his eyes. Had his father really been crying? He'd never seen him shed tears before,_ _ever_ _._

" _We need to keep our eyes alert and ahead. Try to blend in more, which is not easy for us, seeing as who we are. For now, until the Dark Lord for certain comes back, but you have to do me a favor Draco and peruse around the school, see if you can find anything, any more clues the Dark Lord could have left. You're older now. Old enough to be proactively attempting to help us with our ambitions,"_

" _Yes, father," Draco soberly interjected. "I'll do my best, I swear to Salazar."_

_Lucius's steely eyes penetrated his sons face to look for any signs of disagreement or hesitation. And he was right to do so, because Draco was starting to wonder what his own ambitions were, not just his fathers. He started to wonder what his whole entire existence meant and why he was bred specifically. His parent's had tried for years to have a child, and Lucius had been so proud to have a son, but why? So Lucius could groom him the way he wanted, to project ideals and instill his own beliefs in him?_

_Draco never even had a choice, did he? That was when he started to feel a sense of responsibility for a rebellious teenager stage full of angst and emotional conflict._

" _I have an excellent idea for where you can start. There is this room called the Room of Hidden Things, and I can tell you how to get in it."_

Despite wanting to act out he still stayed loyal to his family and tried his best searching for clues, but he wasn't totally sure what he'd been looking for the majority of the time. He wanted to be Head Boy so he could enjoy unlimited access to the restricted section but unfortunately in the end he didn't win that type of luxury.

When he felt he'd read every book in the library he summoned and ventured into the _gigantic_ Room of Hidden Things, or Room of Requirement, whichever one preferred and waded between the mountains of objects and artifacts through the vast, cavernous space.

He'd been at it ever since, until this year. Draco finally decided to give up on all that searching. It seemed like a waste of time. He needed to set his priorities straight and get good marks so he could potentially be more successful in life. To be honest, at that point he couldn't have given a rat's arse about the Dark Lord anymore. Draco never met the Dark Lord, never knew him. It seemed like a fruitless dream, all hypothetical, and it had driven his father completely mental, and he wouldn't make those same mistakes. Draco had to make sure his path through life was practical; become someone important, someone accomplished, someone trusted and someone who people liked to be around, those were his true desires no matter how many times he denied that last particular notion. He rather prided himself on his own renowned waspish stoicism but that only got him so far with so few.

...but then there was way before, when Draco watched Hermione at the Yule Ball. She looked inconceivably stunning and it was the first time he'd given her any thought regarding her good looks. He continued to brush those ideas off completely, being as he was in his relationship with Pansy then.

After the break-up at the end of fifth year, Draco reacquainted himself with the awareness of how attractive Hermione Granger really _was_. He started thinking about how she had done so well in her O.W.L.S, and had bested him in almost every subject. She was ferociously quick-witted, frighteningly intelligent, fearless, miles more kind-hearted than he ever could be, and he'd been afraid to say it then, but she suddenly was… _gorgeous_.

If Hermione Granger was divinely better than him at everything and was all around a goddess-like, unique creature, then why did it matter if she had this so called, 'dirty-blood'? He couldn't understand it anymore. This was the plant that seeded itself deep into Draco's mind where he very much strove to suppress it.

Looking back, there was that specific, firmly forgotten encounter in sixth year, mid-November on a Sunday night, after his new-found revelations which he'd just accepted to be the truth. It was then that, before Draco felt he could move on and continue to ignore his attraction to Granger, he had to make something clear:

_Hermione gasped, surprised to see him standing right there as she turned around, her face almost colliding with his chest. "Hullo, Granger," he drawled, smirking down at her from above. She was wearing a flowy, long-sleeved light-grey, V-neck blouse and her hair, which had been growing increasingly flattering the more he looked at her, (which happened to be a lot as the weeks went by) was drew behind her in a nice, low braid. There were a few tendrils falling around her face but it only made her look all the more endearing._

" _Malfoy," she replied scathingly, her face already swelling up with heat. His body was so close to hers and she could smell his clean, woodsy aroma. They were nestled in a nook at the back of the library, face to face between the endless full shelves and towering stacks. She couldn't fathom that he was willingly standing in front of her. Was he actually going to try to converse with her normally? It was doubtful, and it certainly wouldn't be for any good reason. She tried not to show how surprised she was that he addressed her by her last name, which was rare, instead of the classic 'Mudblood'. "What do you want?"_

" _I want a lot of things, actually, but you're not asking the right question," said Draco smugly._

" _Is that so?" Her freckled nose scrunched. "Couldn't you bother someone else?" His smirk deepened._

" _I could possibly, but that wouldn't be half as entertaining."_

 _She fumed, gripping tightly the large book resting at her side, her body language and aura remaining obstinate. She whispered in an angry huff, "Please, go pester another unsuspecting victim with your slimy sick tricks, you vapid, shallow_ _prick_ _."_

_When she went to move around him he raised his hand to the edge of the shelf, blocking her with his right arm and standing directly in front of her, fully trapping his prisoner. "What a mouth you've got, Granger, really. Like a well-spoken wizard sailor." He chuckled at the thought of his words."It's delightful, actually." he mused and she watched him blatantly scan her face, hair and neck with his eyes. What was he playing at?_

" _What are you doing, Malfoy? Move aside." Hermione tried to get by him, roughly pressing her hand against Draco's stomach to push him. She inwardly gulped and her confidence wavered, feeling his warm, chiseled physique under her fingers when he didn't budge._

" _I'm only_ _talking_ _to you, Granger, what's wrong with that?"_

" _Are you joking?" she asked exasperatedly, almost ready to laugh._

_He continued to smile. "Not at all,"_

_She leaned her head back, confusion etched into her features. "What the bloody hell's gotten into you? Have you been Obliviated?" He barked a laugh. She lifted the big text she had and attempted to whack him in the ribs with it but to her surprise he simply snatched it from her grasp and threw it to the side on a stack that was much lower to the ground._

_The book had been moderately thick and heavy, so Hermione was somewhat impressed by his flawless, reflexive strength. He hadn't ever been weak-bodied, no but he'd definitely been a bit wimpy, and suddenly Draco Malfoy was_ _unpredictable. _

" _Malfoy, wait. I need tha –"_

_Draco hastily turned back to her, but he looked calm and exuded self-control. "Granger," his hand came up to her shoulder and his spectacularly long fingers delicately grazed against her décolletage. He swallowed, hair-raising prickles of excitement travelling through his nerves as his thumb traced the v-line of her thin shirt and her breath caught in her throat. Suddenly a scent made its way to his nostrils, the same type of pheromone induced, mouth-watering smell that engulfed his brain and went straight down his spine, stiffening his groin. "When are you going to ask the right questions?"_

_Hermione's heart thumped against her breasts, but she contained herself, beckoning the logical side of her. She tried to impossibly pay no mind to how strongly her body reacted to his touch, throbbing with an impossible tingling of warm eagerness she hadn't often felt. It was all just so... impossible. That's when she realized what type of questions he may have been referring to. Hermione turned her head to look him in the eyes. "Okay, then why do you even want to talk to me, a mudblood? You've hated them your whole life." _

_His gaze never left hers, and neither did his digits that were still caressing her lightly along her neck and shoulder. "You're not a mudblood,_ _Hermione_ _," Her face was an unreadable plethora of expressions that appeared to involve feelings of severe confusion, anger, disbelief and wariness. His Adam's apple bobbed timorously under his jaw, he had been so_ _bloody_ _nervous. You're a perfectly nice human being, just like, well, most of us anyway, not to mention a perfect witch." Her expressions softened to that of pleasant shock. "Why wouldn't I want to talk to you sometimes?"_

_The Golden Gryffindor's mouth had formed an 'O' in surprise, speechless at his admission and recognition that she was an equal, that she was of significance. Draco had been a whiney, prejudice coward when she'd first met him but perhaps he was gradually ascending to a clearer, unburdened way of thinking._

_She was suddenly very exhilarated, but didn't want to show it. There was a part of her that did not trust him, but was this his way of trying to tell her he was sorry? "I'm still a bit confused, but for now I'm just going to say… thank you."_

" _No need to say thanks, Granger," Draco couldn't help the own redness that formed on his cheeks as he was hyper-aware of how much he was into her. '_ Oh Gods, I should go back to ignoring her, it was easier. _' He turned away, straightening his robes._ _"I just wanted you to know what I thought, so don't have a cow or anything the next time I say hello." Then he'd left her there in the back of the stacks._

Tracey passed the smoking spliff to Blaise. They both had been paying attention to the entire discussion. "Ah, then why don't you make your _own_ , exciting marvelous adventure, Miss Granger?" proclaimed the deep caramel-skinned Italian. "It's your seventh year, just like us three," he said, and took a hit. "You might as well make some light-hearted memories."

"Oh, really, and what do you suggest, Zabini?" Hermione wondered, bemused.

Smoke filtered out of his mouth as Blaise flashed his teeth devilishly. He tried handing her the spliff. She stared at it for a long moment before Ginny nudged her arm excitedly. "C'mon, 'Mione," she whined cutely. "You simply must, just once do something wickedly out of the ordinary."

Hermione pondered over Ginny's words briefly and then took the spliff in between her thumb and fore finger, brought it up to her mouth and… she shook her head, handing it over to her companion. "No." she said firmly, closing her eyes. Ginny became crestfallen and Hermione sighed. "I'm the Head Girl. I shouldn't and simply I… I _can't_." Blaise, Tracey and the two other Slytherins, Winifred Robbins and Luke Powell all broke out into light sniggers. Ginny took the spliff and Hermione looked at the snakes accusingly. "What? It's not a good idea in my current situation. I have my own _personal_ morals, you know. I shouldn't have to explain myself." She crossed her arms.

"No, no, I'm actually not surprised in the _least_ ," said a smug Blaise. "Gryffindor's Golden Girl, always a bit self-righteous, though, don't you think?"

"I'm not going to waste all my hard work by going as far as smoking illegal substances, I'm already risking enough as it is as an associate to the crime and I could lose my Head Girl badge, or _worse_ , be expelled," Draco couldn't hide the small smile that pulled at the corners of his lips. "And I'm letting it happen so all of _you_ can have a nice time."

"Don't be such a hypocrite, Granger, some of us are very aware of your past illegal activities," he hissed with a smirk plastered on his face. "Or shall we call them, _marvelous adventures_?"

"Alright, that's _enough_ out of you, Zabini," Draco reprimanded Blaise. "Who are you, to argue and berate the Head Girl when she clearly does not want to smoke the spliff? _Hm_..? So stop pressuring her."

Blaise eyed the Prefect, suspicious of why he'd suddenly come to the defense of Hermione Granger. He let the words dance around in his brain before he stood up, adjusting his old-timey Italian, velvet hat. "Sure thing, Malfoy," he said with a cool bravado. "You're not wrong, so I'll leave it alone."

"That's _great_ ," the Prince responded, trying not to slur his speech. He was after all, still rather intoxicated from the punch and bourbon. "Now please, clean up, gather your things and let's leave. You were supposed to be back an eternity ago," he ordered authoritatively.

"True as that is, friend, I can't help but notice you've become quite the killjoy," Blaise hated to be bossed around, and especially most definitely by Draco. He had to have the last word, but Draco never did let him have it.

Draco scoffed at his comment. So what if he was? He was trying to keep them all in the good graces of the faculty, for the well-being of everyone involved. It was the survivalist in him, a will to live and thrive. He was an ambitious, resourceful snake, as it were and he felt confused because Blaise used to be like him too: self-contained, stony and reserved, akin to only associating with purebloods and Slytherins. The revisited revelation that both of them had changed popped back into his thoughts and it all seemed a little clearer now. Ever since fifth year, the students around him seemed to become different people, maybe for some they became the real-them, for better or for worse. 

These days, every house partied together and intermingled. It was only those like Blaise and himself who had to learn, adapt and conform to the way things really were and not the fantastical ideas of purity and traditions their lives were supposed to live up to… at least not at Hogwarts, anyway. Back at home with their parents was difficult in various different ways for the snakes in particular.

"I'm only trying to make sure we all have educations after tonight, now round up these kids and get them to their common rooms, understood?" asked Draco. Tracey and Blaise both nodded. "Same goes to you Weasley," he said pointing to and startling Ginny. "You better come up with an excellent cover story for all of us, because if we're found out it won't be good."

"Yes, y-you're right," she stammered.

Draco swiftly turned from them and saw the Head Girl leaned against the railing of the wide open balcony. He stepped toward her, his green cloak billowing in the wind. He looked out across the landscape, approving of the atmosphere around them. The moon was a giant waning gibbous in the autumn night sky. It gloriously shone pearlescent, shimmering warm, yellowish rays down onto the rolling hills and dense forests of the Scottish highlands. It reflected itself across the water of the Black Lake, which was placid and serene. The slight breeze kicked up, and with it Hermione's hair shifted away from her causing splays of her molasses tendrils twirling over him.

He breathed in, relishing in her scent and she slowly peered over at him, curiosity and bemusement in her eyes. Draco met her gaze and a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Instinctively he moved closer, putting one hand on the railing. "Here she is, the Goddess of the night," he said gently and somewhat theatrical. "Looking out over her domain, she rules the kingdom and looks after her people with a tooth-and-nail, motherly protectiveness."

The Head Girl smiled, blushing and leaning more and more towards him without realizing it. "Oh _please_ , Malfoy, you're the one who just came to my rescue. Thank you, your _royal highness_." She said with only slight sarcasm. She couldn't believe the polite kindness that was rolling off of her tongue at him, but she wasn't faking it, she meant it. Hermione was impressed with him. He'd just done something responsible and chivalrous, in front of his people, for _her_ , the Mudblood Granger.

Although, Hermione finally reckoned she hadn't been Mudblood Granger in quite some time. She constantly pushed away the memory of that confusing, awkwardly sensual confrontation in the secluded library in sixth year when he revealed to her his sudden, forefront opinion of her; that to him, she was a _perfect witch_. She thought of all those times she'd caught him sneaking glances at her, to the specific moments his repugnant jokes and uppity antics turned from cruel and ripe with animosity, to languid, lazy drawls and sneers, and sometimes with a prominent lack of enthusiasm. And how he still managed to completely aggravate her and bristle her edges in such a way that she found it aroused her. There were also these random little snide comments he'd say here or there that started to sound almost flirtatious if it had been anyone else so it would usually pass right through Granger's ears and she'd soon forget about it.

At the time, Hermione figured there was no way he'd actually had the hots for her, no definitely not. Draco was just an offensive provoker of words, a manipulator and an arrogant class-clown, too good for everyone else. He'd certainly never expressed publically that he didn't care she was a muggleborn anymore, so who was to say the whole incident in the library was a sham all along?

That had been the epitome of their new found civility the past year, up until that very evening at the All Hallow's Eve Ball, when the candles hit just right and their eyes met and stuck like glue, drawing each other in through the darkness and fog, right into each other's arms. How he had twirled her hair with his long, agile fingers and the way his _throaty_ voice mumbled gruffly against her ear; it made her knees quiver from the swell of burning lava pooling inside her lower-middle. Then, right there in the Astronomy Tower, he'd stuck up for her in front of two of his most viable companions and several other witnesses. Did he… have feelings for her?

"Ah, am I your Prince Charming then?" Draco grinned down at her. Her cheeks were more feverish than ever, being as she suddenly felt so bashful. Her head was reeling, she couldn't even answer him. A long curl flew around her so Draco reached forward and gingerly pushed aside the strand, brushing her blushing face with the tips of his fingers. Her eyes widened, waves of shock cresting and ebbing within her. His hand lingered in the air in front of her, like he wanted to take her into an embrace and then he looked as if a lightning bolt went off through his head before swallowing and pulling his arm away.

"Are we the killjoys they think we are, Granger?" he wondered. "I never used to be like this."

"Actually, I believe those like you and I," she regarded him, waving her hand from him to her, "just know _when_ and _when not_ to 'kill the joy', don't you agree?" He nodded, fascinated with the amber gleam in her beautiful burnt sienna eyes. She peeled her gaze away from him and back up toward the sky. "I've looked at the moon and stars a thousand times but never like this. It's like I'm really seeing them for the first time." Hermione was moderately inebriated yet somehow managed to mostly keep it together but her last comment made it seem like she might've been referring to him metaphorically.

Before Draco could answer, however, a white streak of glowing rock and dust unanticipatedly catapulted through the starlit, navy backdrop and Hermione gasped and pointed to where she'd seen it. "Look, just there, it was a piece of the comet. It was a… _shooting star_ …" Draco snapped his focus up to where she was pointing but had missed the specific one she'd seen. He searched above them for a moment before he realized she had shut her eyes.

Hermione's long, dark eyelashes kissed the swell of her high cheeks and her expression was calm and collected, beaming with a sweet, seraphic smile as she undoubtedly made a wish. Draco held his breath, wondering what she would say when she reopened them.

Yet, not a word escaped her plump lips as she peered at him with a valiance in her cinnamon stare that, mixed with the body heat she was giving off in the cold air and how good she smelled, endowed Draco with the instinctual need to get closer so he could inhale her scent, trail his hands along her warm skin and press himself into her ample curves.

He didn't have time to even dream of doing it. Ginevra made herself known, galloping up to them and settling next to Hermione. "' _Mione_ ," she said sing-song, clasping her hand around the Head Girl's shoulder and breaking her gaze from Draco. "Tracey and Blaise left with the others. It's just you, me and Glynis now," Ginny signaled to the brown-haired girl to the right. It was Glynis Fairchild, Gryffindor sixth year, like herself and she was dressed in an ancient Scandinavian, Shield Maiden outfit, garbed head to toe as a stereotypical Viking. She had on a mid-length dark purple gown with rich brown, cow-hide leather corset and boots, and on top of her head was a bronze hat with two horns poking at the top. She had a wooden shield to complete the look.

"Okay, poppets let's head back, then." Hermione said with her own special manner of maternal authority. "Have you collected all your belongings?" The sixth years took another look around and nodded. "Brilliant, let's go." She turned back to the moon for one last look.

"You do realize I can't let you go unescorted?" he told them unashamedly and Hermione shot him a glance.

Ginny excitedly lurched forward. It was apparent the effects of alcohol and cannabis still lingered in the younger Gryffindors. "Is that _so_ , Malfoy?" the red-head asked. "I never knew you to have such valor like you did tonight. When did _you_ start caring about us Gryffindors?"

"I'd be concerned for any females who are out alone, roaming about the castle intoxicated on multiple substances." He told them honestly.

After being very much surprised and impressed, the girls agreed that it _would_ be a good idea to have him around so the four of them descended the Astronomy Tower and began walking in the direction of the seventh floor.

Lady Luck and the Shield Maiden traipsed down the corridor ahead of Artemis and the Prince of Darkness. The two in front were quietly, yet boisterously giggling, as well as pushing and punching each other playfully. Draco kept himself alert; he really didn't need the red eyes of Mrs. Norris leering at them and warning Filch, and despite his cautiousness with getting caught by a staff member he didn't try to hide how much he was openly looking at Granger.

' _Gods, she's so pretty_ ,' he thought in awe. Hermione was trying to hold in laughter from the spectacle of the younger girls. She looked back at him, her warm, sassy smile and kind, sugary gaze taking hold of his black-tar soul and transfiguring it in ways that were foreign to him. He had to look away but it was proving to be really difficult.

Somehow, by the Grace of the Gods and Merlin himself, the four of them managed to get to the painting of the Fat Lady without running into any other students or staff.

"Carpe Noctem," blurted Ginny confidently.

" _Noo_ , _Gin_ ," Hermione whined, knowing that the Slytherin fully heard the password. "Draco just heard."

Draco snapped his eyes to her, a smile playing on his lips. She'd just said his name, and she sounded like a nice, tasty candy when she said it. "I won't tell, sweet-peas," he cooed. The girls just glared at him and he remembered to be serious. "Nor would I _ever_ enter without permission, on my honor,"

They chuckled at him. "That isn't saying a whole lot, Malfoy," said Ginny with her chin up proudly. "We're changing the password tonight." He snickered.

"Right, then little cubs, run along to your lion den. Have a good night, pip pip, cheerio." He waved them inside. It was sinfully late at night and he had to get back to his own dorms in the dungeons.

Glynis and Ginny waved goodbye to Draco. The red-haired Quidditch chaser (sometimes seeker if Harry was indisposed) looked back and with a wink, said, "Thanks for having our backs, _snake_." He sheepishly brought his fingers to his forehead in a salute, feeling a tad modest.

Hermione turned to him before she went all the way inside. "Yes, you were very helpful. I won't lie, you have shown me the true warrior in you, and it's safe to say you make a _great_ Prefect. You should have been Head Boy." She told him with her small smile. "Thank yo – "

"No, thank you, _Goddess_ ," he breathed, slyly leaning towards and peering up at her while she stood on the entry way. "You've shown me all I needed to know here, tonight." _'What the hell does he mean by that?'_ she thought to herself. Draco wanted to press a kiss to her pretty lips, he'd wanted to all night, but the sharp whisper of Ginny calling Hermione's name from behind her in the dark hallway signaled him that it was not the correct moment. "Until we meet again, _gorgeous_ ," his voice was dark and smoky with a hidden promise as his figure drifted away into the blackened corridor and it intrigued Hermione all the way to her knickers and followed her through her dreams that night; glimpses into memories of another life, flashes of grey, rainy eyes glimmering with sincerity and truth, a sumptuous, pouty mouth that was soft and all hers to kiss and a shock of silky silvery hair entangled in her hands as he pounded himself into her hard, but slowly like time didn't exist, relishing in each other like they didn't have to hide anymore, like they were the only two people left on earth.

When Hermione awoke it was mid-morning. She had only a few flashbacks of the memories in her dreams and continued about her day none the wiser. Ignorance is bliss, correct?

 **AN:** That's it for the second chapter. Starting out a little slow here but we'll get there. Feel the **slow burn** haha I will include more of Goldstein and others in the next installment. Thank you for reading it and please review, loves. Kisses :0)


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